Welcome back to the Weird, the Wild, & the Wicked. Today is Thursday and we're starting our fourth year flashing! This is Week 158 of #ThursThreads, the challenge that ties tales together.Want to keep up each week? Check out the #ThursThreads #flashfiction group on Facebook.

Need the rules? Read on.

Here's how it works:

The prompt is a line from the previous week's winning tale.

The prompt can appear ANYWHERE in your story and is included in your word count.

Rules to the Game:

This is a Flash Fiction challenge, which means your story must be a minimum of 100 words, maximum of 250.

Incorporate the prompt anywhere into your story (included in your word count).

Post your story in the comments section of this post

Include your word count (or be excluded from judging)

Include your Twitter handle or email (so we know how to find you)

The challenge is open 7 AM to 8 PM Mountain Time

The winner will be announced on Friday, depending on how early the judge gets up.

How it benefits you:

You get a nifty cool badge to display on your blog or site (because we're all about promotion - you know you are!)

It shouldn’t have happened. Not like this. I mean, you should be able to go for a Sunday drive and feel safe, you know?

But Sally was going stir crazy so we decided to head out on the Freeway and see where it took us.

A couple of hours in, she says “Why don’t we get off this thing and find the old highway?”

Me, I am content just cruising down this glorious four-lane beauty. But, to keep peace in the family, I swing off at the next exit and pretty soon we are on some old winding pot-holed bit of crap antiquity and it’s getting close to dark. Up ahead is a motel straight out of Psycho. It’s even called the Bates Motel.

“Pull in,” she insists, so I do. We get out and this young Norman Bates look-alike pops out of the office all cheery-like and says, “Welcome folks.”

Sally was always a big Tony Perkins fan so she’s glowing, enjoying whatever this was, time travel or, more likely, some wicked marketing scheme to boost tourism in Crackpot City or wherever the hell were.

Me, I`ve never ever recovered from seeing Janet Leigh hacked to death in the shower. It was the most traumatic thing that had ever happened to me.

“Sweetie,” I say, tugging at her blouse, “I’d like to get out of here. This is too creepy for words.”

“Get a grip,” she whispers back. “Let’s stay the night. What’s the harm?”

Edit alert!!!
4th to last paragraph should end with "wherever the hell we were."
So embarrassing, eh!

Cari

3/5/2015 12:13:57 am

Travel Log
by Cari Oleskewicz
@carilynn72
249 words

Travel Log

Jenna watched the approaching army, clad in armor and setting fire to everything in their path. The horses thundered, deranged and unable to think of anything but speed.

“Darling,” she said calmly. “I wonder if we could be quite quick.”

“Certainly,” her husband said, tearing through the hope chest at the bottom of their bed. “I know it’s here somewhere, I just can’t remember where I buried it. Is that my navy silk ascot?”

“Hang the ascot,” Jenna said, eyeing the window. “I’d like to get out of here.”

“Wait – oh, no. That’s just the pen that Sir Lucas gave me after he wrote you that sonnet. Do you remember it? Such misery and anticipation all in the same lines. I do wonder at the brilliance of our friends. As if perhaps we’re the indolent Philistines of the group. Do you, ever?”

“Mmmm,” she said. “We have 30 seconds until we’re burned down with this village, my treat.”

“Yes, of course. I know it. Oh, that’s a wind, isn’t it? This big house gets so drafty. I look forward to our next times. The modern city condo. The wretched foodstuffs.” He smiled at her, holding up the item he had been seeking. It looked like a silver cigar and it would save them from the darkness.

They sat down on the hope chest that would travel with them, both of them clutching the transporter.

“I’d like to get out of here.” Sheila took a sip of her drink and ran her foot up the side of the john’s leg.

She stretched a little, bringing her foot forward between his knees, and pressed it against his package. She felt it harden and smiled.

“Let’s go.” He pushed away from the table and she stood, catching him as he stumbled. He was drunk. She was not. She took another drink before leading him out of the bar.

“Where we going?” he asked.

“I have a room across the street.”

The motel was seedy, one of those places that didn’t ask for ID--cash up front. Sheila unlocked the door. The john followed her in. He grabbed at her ass and she smacked his hand away. “Not until you pay,” she teased.

“How much?”

He fumbled for his wallet, but she stopped him. “Not money.”

He looked puzzled. “Then what?”

She lifted his chin so that he was looking into her eyes. They had been green, but now were black, like
death. He whimpered, but nothing more came out as she revealed her true self to him--an aged crone who needed to feed on his soul. His cock shrunk, looking for a place to hide. Finding no escape, he pissed himself.

When she was done with him, he was just a husk. Not dead. Not alive. Still, his cock responded when she climbed on top, payment having been received, and kept her end of the bargain.

250 Words
@jezri1

Pour Votreplaisir

3/5/2015 12:57:56 am

Saying Nothing
by Pour Votreplaisir
@PSVWriter
203 words

I’ve never been quite sure how he does it -- manages to stay so hard after he comes. But it’s nice, cuddling while still full of him. Rather Tantric, really.

Problem is, we also both get a little silly after orgasms.

Which is probably why my first coherent utterance after was, “You have too many letters in your name.”

"I'd like to get out of here, Sorin. Before the Gyere return, preferably. How long before you can do the spell?"

"It isn't a bunting recipe. I need to recite the spell precisely and the language is archaic."

"Well, I'll just sit down over here and let you spell, or conjure, or whatever it is you mages do."

Sorin spared him a glance as Ejan sat on the cold floor of their cell in the obsidian prison. She was losing her confidence rapidly. The spell that could free them was long and complex.

"You would think this sort of spell would not be all that complicated," Ejan said.

"Maybe you'd like to give it a try," Sorin said.

"Okay, okay, I'll just be quiet."

"I think I've got it," Sorin placed her index finger on the beautifully illustrated letter introducing the spell and took a breath. She then recited the first four words in the archaic language of the ancient tome.

“So, the deal was that if you give us the information we want, we take two felony drug charges off your record. All that’s left is for you to accept the deal.” Marissa hands me a pen. “Your record will be cleared.”

Ratting out my street boyfriend and his gang wasn’t an easy thing to do, but in the end it paid off. I sign everything and push the papers back toward Marissa.

“You’ll be brought over for court at two tomorrow,” she says. “The judge will consider everything, the state will make their case and we should be in the clear.”

“Thanks. I’d like to get out of here.” I draw my knees to my chest, resting my chin on them.

Driving down the road in pelting sheets of ice, I regretted my decision, after the funeral, not to stay at my godmother’s overnight. Trapped by waves of grief and needing to distance myself after the loss of my mother, I’d said to my godmother, “I’d like to get out of here.”
Tired, I blinked trying to keep myself awake and turned on the radio. My eyes jerked open; that was close. I heard something pull on the left side and the car stopped. In the woods, beside the car, I saw a small house; the light beckoning me despite the late hour of midnight. I put my hand up to knock at the door and was beckoned in by two familiar women a fifty something woman, and her sister. I sat and sipped tea with them.

My eyes opened to bright light and a transport truck coming right for me. Swerving the wheel I pulled over to the side of the road. Putting my hands in front of my face I was surprised to hear a voice in my right ear, “Sleep now, and drive safely, later.”

And then the figure was gone. It was then I realized where I’d seen the women in the cottage; they were my grandmother and my mother as they had appeared thirty years ago. I wasn’t alone; they would always be there for me. I slept and drove later.
250 words
@SweetSheil

Anna Lund

3/5/2015 02:27:38 am

~~~~~

Robin talked to Leo in a low and calm voice.
”You hang on to me, okay? I am right here, and you are not alone.”

She searched his face for confirmation that he’d heard her, and then took his hand in a tight grip.

”Whatever passes your mind, just say it, and I’ll make it happen. If you want to leave, then I’d like to get out of here, too. If you want to run, I’ll run right beside you. If you want to break down, I’ll hold you while you do it. Just tell me, and I’ll fix it.”

The crush of bodies jammed against us. There wasn’t jackshit I could do. The sweet scent of hot blood filled my nose and my wolf wanted out. I stuffed him deep.

“Easy?” Sam’s fingers clutched my cut.

“Don’t let go, baby.”

“I’d like to get out of here. In one piece.”

“You’n me both. Just hang on.”

I bulled through the crowd. Smoke drifted across my vision. That wasn’t good. Fire would stampede the people. I could strip, shift. My wolf would get out. But Sam wouldn’t and no way was I leaving her behind. Light flashed, followed by thunder. Only it wasn’t. Thunder. Explosion. Another one. Fuck. Sam let go. I whirled, grabbed her, tossed her over my shoulder, kept shoving forward toward the exit doors. Gunshots. What the hell?

The woman next to me tripped, went down. She thrust the bundle in her arms at me and I grabbed it by reflex. Baby. Crap. The woman was gone, lost under the stampede around us. I veered away from the doors. Too many people. Bodies piling up. Window. I put Sam on her feet. She took the screaming baby. I tossed a rack through the window. Sam and I followed it out. People screamed behind us. Fresh blood. Jagged glass.

“Keep moving.” I kept a death grip on Sam’s arm, pulling her with me. We got away from the main crush. Stopped. Caught our breath. Another explosion. The whole place went up.

But we were alive.

****
247 words
@SilverJames_

Siobhan Muir

3/5/2015 06:00:39 am

“Be still, Officer Wolffe.” Master Kindle laid his other hand on Chayse’s opposite shoulder. “Just breathe for a bit while I take a look.”

Chayse forced himself to sit still while the Morukai hummed below his breath. The sound reverberated through him and stole some of his anger, leaving the arousal and yearning behind. Tears formed behind his lids and spilled down his cheeks. Goddess, he wanted the pain and addiction to stop. He wanted to feel normal again.

“Very good and very interesting, Officer Wolffe.” Master Kindle trailed his hand over Chayse’s shoulders as he shifted to sit in front of him. “Things are progressing better than I’d hoped for you. The damage done by your encounter with the succubus has nearly completely healed.”

“Please, Master Kindle, you must help me.” Chayse shook his head and opened his eyes, ignoring his tears. “I’ve met another succubus and I can’t shake my interest or need for her.” His fists tightened. “Goddess help me, I had sex with her and….and bit her.”

Master Kindle’s gaze sharpened. “How recently have you done this?”

Chayse shrugged miserably. “Two hours ago.”

Master Kindle blinked, surprise flitting across his face before the serenity returned. “Take a deep breath in and let it out slow while I look you over again.”

Chayse tried to relax, but tears kept flowing and his yearning increased the longer the Morukai worked on him. *Goddess, I’d like to get out of here in one piece. I can’t do this anymore.*

The girl’s name is Tondra. What’s more, we have a mutual acquaintance. Well, really three mutual acquaintances, but only one that I got a good look at and consider worth counting. I don’t count the boy with the sword. He’s exactly the sort of unimaginative meat head that gives humans such a bad reputation in the spirit world. Actually, it is a little impressive he is still alive. The trickster spirit? Oh, she definitely counts. But I never got a good look at her.

The one that has me excited, makes my heart race, is Yuki. Tondra not only knows Yuki, but apparently came here in the company of our mutual acquaintances. Knowing the Great Snow Lady of the north is again so close makes me anxious. She and I still have unfinished business, and I know current circumstances are as precarious for her as for Tondra or I. So why hasn’t she been locked up too?

She wasn’t sure if she’d spoken his name, but it didn’t matter. She began rocking back and forth, the name becoming a mantra: something to focus on other than her situation. She had to stay awake, she had to stay alive… for Ian.

“Oh… Ian…” she signed. “I’d like to get out of here…”

She was startled when she heard Ian’s voice answer her, “out of the Jacuzzi or the Ski resort?”

201 words
@mishmhem
#flashdogs

Siobhan Muir

3/5/2015 12:04:17 pm

#ThursThreads Week 158 is now CLOSED. Thanks to everyone who wrote this week and I hope to see you next week. :)

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About Me

Siobhan Muir lives in Cheyenne, Wyoming, and writes kick-ass adventure with hot sex for men and women to enjoy. She believes in happily-ever-after, redemption, and communication, all of which you'll find in her romance stories of all genres.